10
MEETING THE CODYS each summer at Lake Nokobee, catching fragments of their conversation, I could see that Ainesley and Marcia had reached a point when they were barely able to hold their morganatic marriage together. Their struggle for Raff's loyalty had turned him into a nervous, unhappy child. By the age of twelve he no longer trusted the alcoholic bravado of his father. He could not help but contrast the relative penury of life in Clayville with the privilege and security of the family at Marybelle. His mother's obsession with the Semmeses' tribal glory clashed unpleasantly with knowledge of the Semmes privileges that were denied him. He came to reject his mother's fantasy, and made the most of plebeian reality. The genealogy of the Semmeses held no more interest for him than the succession of the British royalty.
Above all, Raff dreaded the possibility that his parents might divorce. Several of his classmates at the Martin Luther King, Jr., Grammar School had divorced parents. They seemed all right in how they behaved, but he knew from kids' talk that they were confused and conflicted, and often upset. Two sets of parents were commonplace, with tangles of half-siblings and siblings-in-law living here, living there, sometimes arguing in other rooms and in other towns, behind closed doors. It was a nightmare that could happen. Raff just hoped Ainesley and Marcia would at least stay together, even if they fought a lot, just to avoid a catastrophe for himself.
It is natural, I understand looking back, for a child under sustained and close domestic stress to search for other venues. Some invent fantasy places of escape and survival, dream worlds in faraway places--treetops with Tarzan and Jane, a magical world at the center of the earth, a camouflaged shelter next to a pure bubbling stream in an enchanted forest. At a certain age, usually between eight and twelve, children often construct simulations of their dreams in the form of treehouses and lean-tos and teepees made of cut saplings and rope.
During pleasure drives with his parents on Sundays down the meandering byways around Clayville, Raff often had glimpses of the floodplain woodlands that lined the creeks and rivers in this coastal region. He peered as deeply as he could into their junglelike interiors. They were the Amazon and Congo of which he read, writ small. He imagined walking along one of the clear, gentle streams to a place far away, completely wild and never seen by any others, where he could live awhile.
In time, Raff recognized that he already had such a refuge. Ten minutes' drive from the Codys' home, down a side road north off Alabama State 128, was Lake Nokobee. The southern perimeter of the lake was often visited by townspeople and fishermen for recreation. Raff's parents had been taking him there on weekend picnics since he was a baby. Along the western lakeshore was a strip of nearly pristine hardwood brush. Inland from these peripheral woods stretched a large tract of longleaf pine savanna dotted with dense hardwood copses. Most people within fifty miles knew of this inland portion of the Nokobee tract but believed it to be private and off-limits. In any case, it was in their eyes little more than unhealthy piney woods and impenetrable thickets, the haunt of bugs and snakes. They believed that insects, poisonous snakes, and thorny bushes that tear your clothes were dominant elements. Beyond Nokobee lay the much larger William Ziebach National Forest. Because it was even more remote, approachable only by a single logging road on the northwest, it received even fewer visitors than the Nokobee tract.
This domain was all that Raphael Semmes Cody needed to satisfy his dreams. At the age of twelve he began to explore the Nokobee tract on his own. He went whenever he could find half a day free. He said nothing to his parents, who thought his excursions were with friends to the Clayville town center or high school recreation field.
Raphael Semmes entered the Nokobee world as a child, playfully and joyfully, without fear. He had no adult hand to restrain him. The towering longleaf pines and the wild native flora beneath them became as familiar to him as the shrubbery and gardens of Clayville. One or two snakes were always there to be caught on any given day, examined closely, and released. Raff found insects, spiders, and other arthropods of endless variety and put many in jars for temporary captivity. In spring and summer, bird nests could always be found, and a few were low enough to be monitored for eggs and nestlings. Hawks and other large birds high overhead came reliably in sight, to be watched as they drifted to unknown destinations. Herons and egrets of a half dozen species speared frogs and fish in the lake shallows. Rattlesnakes, cottonmouth moccasins, and black widow spiders provided excitement, but were to be avoided--at least, no more than poked with a long stick.
Raff dared say nothing of his adventures to Ainesley and Marcia, who if he did would learn he had lied earlier about his whereabouts and ground him. But he could confide in me, his honorary uncle. After all, he and I were doing the same thing. The difference is that I was constrained to research projects well defined in advance, in order to find and document enough new original material to publish in scientific journals. I was locked into the cycle of the professional scientist: seeking grant money to discover enough to earn more research grants. I would have liked to return to childhood and be a true explorer like Raphael. Little of what we found was truly new to science, but it was novel to him, and he was in a constant state of exhilaration.
"I want to do a complete map of the Nokobee tract," he said. "And maybe go on into the Ziebach Forest and make a list of all the kinds of plants and animals in there too. Maybe I can find new species and take photographs of snakes."
I realized that my easy acquiescence in our earlier encounters had trapped me. I couldn't break my promise to Raff by telling his parents; he wouldn't ever trust me again if I did. But I could not allow a twelve-year-old boy to go wandering secretly and alone into a wilderness like the Nokobee tract and Ziebach National Forest. So after struggling inwardly with the dilemma for a moment, I finessed my response.
"I won't tell your mom and dad, but I want a couple of promises from you in return. I don't think you realize how easily you could get lost in those places. If you had an accident you could lie out there injured or even dead for days before anybody found you. I want you to promise you'll never go beyond the trailhead and those places y'all have your picnics. And I want you to tell your dad and mom every time you go, and exactly where you'll be, and the exact time you'll come home. Now, do...you...promise me?"
"Okay," Raff said.
His prompt response startled me. I thought, He's been waiting for a grown-up to approve his plans and bring some order into his secret life.
"Raff, now let me give you some more advice on all this. Go slow. You're still very young. There are probably new species out there, all right. But take everything one step at a time. Learn the fauna and flora as you go. And above all, be real careful in everything you do. Stay away from poisonous snakes and out of the water. Take someone with you if you can, maybe your cousin Junior or some friend at school. Nokobee is a wonderful place. I just want you to stay alive to enjoy it. I want you to promise me this much."
"Yessir. Okay."
The response this time was a bit too pat. I only half believed him. But I had done what I could, and I let it go.